2. Darkness in the Blood Master copy MS 5 (22 page)

Hard.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the mist wall demanded. Exactly half of Jack followed his arm through the opening. “Come with me.” With a terrible scowl, he jerked me behind him. The mist world of my own dream melted around me like warm butter. We stood together on the wide veranda that overlooked the St. Clare. The house was quiet and dark.

I pried his hand from my forearm. “If you don’t mind,” I sighed. “I’ve been dragged around and roughed up pretty much since I woke up today. I could use a break.”

He stared at me like I’d slapped him. “Roughed up? You’ve been roughed up? You’ve been brain damaged, you mean. You just made an agreement to turn yourself over peacefully to our number one enemy.” He squared his body as if preparing to spar. “I’ll repeat my previous question. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Was it possible to fall asleep when you were already dreaming? I sank to the sanded boards beneath my bare feet and pulled my knees to my chest. Logan’s t-shirt tented over my bent legs and came down to my ankles. Jack loomed over me, shirtless as always and faintly blue against the deeply indigo sky. “We sort of match,” I said, looking out at the far banks of the river. “In a backwards way.”

His scowl didn’t loosen one bit. “What makes you think Belial will keep his word?”

“You don’t have a shirt and I don’t have pants. Put us together and you have an outfit.” I started giggling then, tiny noises at first that grew harder and harder to control. Eventually my entire upper body shook with laughter and tears while I buried my head in my knees and tried not to think of anything at all. Jack kept talking at me. I didn’t hear a word he said. Finally, he just reached down and hauled me up to face him, his hands supporting me by the elbows.

“You cannot just hand yourself over,” he said, cold and low. “You have no idea…”

“Don’t you dare say that to me,” I hissed. “I have every idea. You told me once we gifted burn like candles in your Dreamtime.” Now I held his forearms in a death grip between us. “Look into that house behind me and tell me what you see.”

His dark eyes widened as he swept the house behind us. “I don’t understand.”

“Welcome to my life,” I told him tiredly.

“Where did he come from?”

“That,” I said tersely, “is my brother. The one who almost died. The one a full-blooded Nephilim gave up immortality for. My brother who suddenly, inexplicably, fought with Nephilim strength and summoned Light for the first time tonight. I won’t let Belial have him. Surely there’s someone who would make the same sacrifice for you.”

He actually flinched, but he covered it quickly. “Summoned Light?” Jack echoed. I’d stopped feeling cold. The tension between us was fading, too, replaced by a sense of shock and shared purpose. “That will attract…”

“Yes,” I said. “Exactly. Them. The forces of Light are on the other side of us, Belial’s armies waiting just beyond the mist wall. Logan and I are trapped between. He’ll draw their attention soon, if he hasn’t already, and Whitfield will be even more in the middle than it already is. The very best thing I can do for him and my town is getting the hell out of here and taking the army of darkness with me.” I could feel the desperation in my expression. He looked at me with something like understanding.

Then I saw our arms.

Linked forearm to forearm, Shadows lay across our skin in warm peaceful layers. Always before they had swarmed across me in cold, terrifying waves. Now they seemed energizing. Instead of a sucking black abyss, the layers of Shadow across our joined arms had a hard, polished look to them, like hematite or obsidian. I looked at Jack in amazement.

“Sshh,” he cautioned. “You’re catching on. It’s why he wants the two of us so badly. We can do things together that we could never do apart, like this shielding; not much can get through it. Shared purposes: offense and defense. That’s us.”

I let my arms slip to my side, the Shadows dissipating like smoke. “Good,” I said after a moment. “Because if we’re ever going to be safe, we have to destroy Belial’s army. And that means destroying him.”

I was grateful for his warmth along my side. “You have to remember, no matter what happens, no matter how things look, that I’m on your side, Caspia.”

I nodded. “Me too, Jack.” I felt my eyes grow heavy again, a precursor to waking up. “Will you take me to visit Ethan in his dreams? Can I give him at least that?”

“Yes,” he said, sounding oddly smug. “I promise we’ll pay visits to Ethan. I’m counting on it, actually.”

Chapter Twenty-Two:

Breakfast with Asheroth

When I woke right before dawn, I saw that a silk robe and slippers had been laid under the rose. Asheroth was back. I suppressed the unpleasant image of him watching me sleep. I needed something to wear that wasn’t torn or stained or had belonged to a boy first.

Upstairs, the entire northern wall of the house was made of glass. There were no curtains, no blinds, nothing whatsoever to obscure the view except for a few vines and intrepid branches. I crossed my arms loosely against my chest, reveling in the feel of fine silk against my bare skin. I didn’t want to enjoy myself. I wanted to cling to my anger, my fear, and my sense of edgy desperation. If I didn’t, it would be easy to let the lush security of the upper levels of Asheroth’s compound lull me into a peaceful forgetting. I couldn’t do that, I reminded myself. A whole town’s welfare depended on me getting out of the way.

The carpet was thick and lush between my toes, the silk robe loose and soft against my thighs. The morning light caught the colors of the surrounding forest in perfect, understated hues. It practically begged for a pastel pencil sketch. I tried to remember the last time I had created anything, and couldn’t. I could probably set up an easel and do a fantastic landscape in oil or even watercolor on one of the many wrap-around patios.

Everything about the place was designed to draw me in. It would be so painless to forget everything and live in a state of ever-present Eden here. I roamed around the kitchen in the sinfully soft silk robe. That’s where he found me, digging through cabinets in search of coffee. I’d already given up on food. I kept my fingers crossed for caffeine as I ransacked cabinets and drawers.

“I apologize that I am not better prepared.” His arrival made no sound. I jumped as if I’d been caught stealing. I whirled, my back pressed against the empty refrigerator as he advanced on me. “I was not expecting guests. But I’ve taken steps to rectify the situation.”

It always shocked me, how young and delicate he looked when not gripped by madness or hatred. In the clear strong morning light of his kitchen, he looked as normal as I’d ever seen him. If I’d met him on the street, he might have passed for human. A very dangerous, attractive human. He didn’t even wear his red leather jacket. “Is that what I am?” I asked. “Your guest?”

He studied me in the morning light. I stared right back. I’d never seen him in anything but red. The blindingly white silk shirt he wore almost matched the brightness of his eyes. The rest of him was black. Pants, boots, even a thick leather cuff on his wrist. I felt awkward in my silk robe. But he only held out a hand to me.

“Let us not play this game today,” he said. His cold white fingers were still as firm as a marble statue’s as they closed around mine. “Have breakfast with me.” He gave me a little boy’s smile as he drew me out onto the largest patio. He pulled coffees, pastries, and fruit from a box. “I remembered that you like that terrible bitter bean drink. Paris has some of the best.”

“You went to Paris.” He smile got a little brighter. It was hard not to smile back as he handed me a steaming cardboard cup. Nephilim-quick, he appeared again at my elbow and pulled out a wrought iron chair. “Do you even eat?” I couldn’t resist asking as I scooted up to the table. I couldn’t remember Ethan once eating a thing, before he changed.

He raised one jet-black eyebrow. “You have to ask, after seeing the state of my cupboards?”

“Guess not.” I snagged an interesting looking pastry. The crust flaked away to reveal an almost liquid cheese center. I tried not to drool. It wouldn’t do to reveal too many of my weaknesses. I couldn’t have my sometimes nemesis know how much I loved cheese in pastry form.

“I’ll get whatever you want,” he said softly while I looked at my plate, at the beading on my robe… anything but the warm, cheese-drenched pastry halfway between me and the fallen angel. Damn. He smirked as I caved, pouncing on the pastry like Abigail on a treat.

“Did you happen to find any clothes while you were out?” I murmured, licking errant cheese from my fingers. For about half a second, while I sipped an excellent but very bitter espresso, I almost wished I’d kept my mouth shut. My clothes were what had finally sent him over the edge last night. He poked at a croissant.

“Your clothes were… unacceptable.”

I selected a second cheese pastry, watching him through my eyelashes. He seemed sane this morning, so I decided to risk an explanation. “You do realize that neither Ethan nor Logan had anything to do with the state of my clothing? My demonic minion art teacher tried to take me to the Dark Realms. There was something of a struggle,” I glossed over a whole lot of facts that might upset him again with an airy wave of my hand. “My shirt got ripped when a werewolf gave me CPR. At least, I think he was a werewolf.” I toasted him with my cup. “So you see, it all turned out quite well.”

His expression got darker. “You really must not leave this property without me by your side. I’ll find you more suitable clothing after breakfast. Perhaps we’ll even go to Paris.”

“I don’t want to go to Paris. I have plenty of clothes at my apartment.”

“Your apartment isn’t safe.”

I drained the espresso with one quick flick of my wrist. “It seems like I was pretty well protected last night. My brother and my boyfriend are both still alive, despite your determination to kill them. What makes you think they can’t protect me?” I slammed the empty cup down on the table. “Leaving aside the insulting implication that I can’t take care of myself, of course.”

Oooh, when was I going to learn to humor him? His diamond eyes sparked wild as live wires in a thunderstorm. “The idea that you can take care of yourself in this situation,” he growled, “is pure madness. And I know madness. I won’t let it happen. Neither will the two boys you so blithely accuse me of trying to murder. They have failed at protecting you, Caspia. Why else did they personally deliver you to my doorstep?”

For that, I had no comeback. They would never have brought me here if things weren’t absolutely desperate. I buried my face in my hands and focused on the sounds of the St. Clare rushing below us, trying to calm my simmering temper.

“Good morning. Did you get enough coffee?” Familiar black leather slid over my shoulders. Ethan. I whipped my head up so fast it knocked over my empty cardboard cup.

I was on the verge of throwing my arms around him when I checked myself, halfway out of my chair. “My God. You look awful.” I froze, watching intently as he sat carefully in an empty iron chair.

“I’m fine,” he lied. I could see scraped and bruised knuckles, torn fingernails, and bruised forearms. The way he sat ramrod straight reminded me that he probably had bruised and cracked, if not broken, ribs.

“We have to get you to a hospital,” I said, biting my lip.

“I’m not leaving.” Ethan announced with grim finality. He found his own cardboard cup of coffee. “And neither are you.” After a long drink of unsweetened coffee, Ethan finally acknowledged Asheroth’s presence. “Good morning. Thanks for not assaulting Caspia over breakfast.”

“I assure you,” Asheroth said coldly, “I would never assault Caspia, and I resent the implication.”

“We were kind of counting on that,” Ethan began. “We wouldn’t have brought her here at all if we’d thought you would react like you did last night. The whole point was to bring her some place safe.”

Even I could hear the anger, the reproof in his voice. Asheroth sprang up in Ethan’s face and shouted, “Forgive me for reacting strongly to surprise Dark Realm energy in my home. And may I suggest next time you don’t hide behind your girlfriend.” Ethan jumped up too, ready to fight, broken ribs and all.

Someone had spilled coffee onto the plate with the cheese pastries. I eyed them sadly. “That’s enough. People are missing; my town is under assault; who knows what kind of creatures want me dead, and it’s all my fault. I. Have. Had. Enough.” I jumped up, ready to storm back into the house.

And almost collided with a surprised Cassandra Blackwood.

I was used to seeing her in flowing skirts and sandals. But this morning, she looked like she’d hacked her way through rough terrain to be here. Her long blond hair hung in a single braid over one shoulder. A few leaves and twigs stuck out of it. Her worn hiking boots had tracked bits of forest floor across the veranda. Her kohl-rimmed eyes flickered around the breakfast table quickly before she dumped the heavy backpack she was carrying on the ground with a loud thump. “I’m sorry,” she huffed, out of breath. “I would have been here sooner, but travelling between the compounds was harder than I anticipated.” She gave me a faint but genuine smile.

“Uh, what?” I said, gaping at her.

“The mist wall seems to be active even between Guardian compounds.” Cassandra gave me a quick up and down glance before collapsing into the chair I’d just vacated. She flashed me a grin. “Nice robe. I brought you a change of clothes. Don’t worry; it’s not too witchy. Please tell me there’s coffee.” She rummaged through the remains of breakfast while the rest of us stared at her. “At least, that’s what happened between the Eastern and Southern compounds. I’m going to assume that’s on your end, Asheroth, because Grand’Mere would have mentioned strengthening the wards.” She spoke through a mouthful of muffin. “Next time, warn a girl, ok? I know it’s not enough to be a problem for a full Guardian, but of course she couldn’t come, since you’re all supposed to be channeling your energies into maintaining the perimeter. Although I think it’s smart, considering there’s only one of you. Do you want to send for reinforcements from North and West? I can help, even though I’m just the Eastern apprentice. Grand’Mere won’t mind.”